Twas the Night Before Christmas
by Cujo25
Summary: A tribute to my favourite childhood poem authored by Clement Clarke Moore.


_**This is a tribute to Clement Clarke Moore; the author of one of my favourite Childhood poems.**_

 _ **'**_ _ **Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…**_

In a polite muggle neighbourhood where houses stood silently covered in snow there stood one house in particular that, even though it was painted in the same muted pastel shades as the rest of the street it stood out almost as if it had been lit up by a beacon. The house was dark and quiet with only the occasional creaks from floorboards as they settled and the muted _whoosh_ from the central heating as the boiler fired up.

Throughout the ground floor, pictures gazed sightlessly from their frames, depicting the same blond child with his mum and dad; from these pictures, you would not guess there was someone else living there. Not until you opened the cupboard beneath the stairs and could gaze upon the smaller than average child laid within. In the cupboard beneath the stairs, the small boy turned over in his sleep, breathing gently; twitching occasionally as he dreamed of happier times; of hugs and kisses and the feeling of being loved.

Upstairs, the snores vibrated through the house from two different rooms. In the first bedroom, a child four times the size of the child under the stairs curled up as tight as a boy his size could and snorted as he slept, no doubt dreaming of presents and sweets. In the room along the landing, two people slumbered in relative peace; except when the large, obese man let rip with a loud snore followed by an equally loud fart. Next to him his wife jabbed him in the ribs with her pointy elbow with a 'For God's sake, Vernon!' and then pulled the duvet over her head. She soon fell asleep again even as the loud snores continued.

 _ **…The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there…**_

Earlier that evening, Little Harry had watched from the relative safety of the kitchen as his Aunt and Uncle helped Dudley put his stocking up above the electric fire knowing full well he would not be allowed one of his own. He watched wistfully as Dudley was given endless hugs and kisses, while he could only dream of distant memories. He had turned away and busied himself with peeling the sprouts ready for cooking the following day as his family purposely celebrated the season without him.

In the living room, Dudley Dursley nagged and cajoled, trying to get at least one present from his parents only to throw a tantrum when they told him Santa would be bringing them while he was asleep. Petunia Dursley placated him by offering him his favourite ice-cream while Vernon Dursley ruffled his son's hair affectionately causing Dudley's many chins to wobble. Harry watched all this without a word as a lone tear spilled over his eyelid…

 _ **…The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums danc'd in their heads…**_

As they slept, Dudley dreamed of all the presents his parents would bestow and the sweets he would consume. He smiled in his sleep as he visualised the trouble he could get his no good cousin into. A little sigh followed by a loud snore was all that was heard from him as thoughts of food, sweets and presents circled round his mind.

Beneath the stairs, Harry turned over and gently sucked his thumb. His dreams were filled with a beautiful red-haired woman who sang to him gently, telling him that she loved him and one day he would do great things. He dreamed of his daddy, who held him tightly as he flew them round the garden on his broomstick. Dreams of a great black dog that turned into a man with a barking laugh and a man with golden eyes smiling at him with love in their eyes…

 _ **…And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap…**_

Petunia Dursley turned over in her sleep, her hair wrapped in curlers and covered with a hairnet ready for the dinner party the following day. Even in her sleep, her mind ran through what needed to be done for the following day; she made mental notes of what she would get her nephew to do while she entertained her guests. The turkey was stuffed with bacon on the breast and all the veg was peeled. She knew the table would need setting and the living room, dining room, stairs etc. would need vacuuming…

Under the stairs, little Harry woke up and rubbed his eyes slowly. The urge to use the bathroom was epic and he slowly opened the door and on tip-toes, he made his way to the downstairs loo. Once he had finished, he glanced out of the room before pulling the flush. As soon as he had done that, he quickly shut the door to prevent the sound carrying through the house. He walked quietly to the sink and turning the tap until it dribbled, he quickly washed his hands.

 _ **…When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter…**_

Harry cautiously made his way to the kitchen window and looked out. He stared at the snow that was drifting slowly from the sky; on this side of the glass it looked beautiful but he knew that tomorrow, he would be sent outside to clear the front path for his Aunt's guests and he shivered in anticipation. A shadow crossed the window causing Harry to step back from the window but after barely a moment, he stepped forward…

 _ **…Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash…**_

Harry pressed his face to the window, careful not to leave smudges on the pristine glass and looked out into the night beyond. He was very tempted to open the window but he knew this window squeaked so he kept his hands at his sides. From this angle, he couldn't see much, only the stars twinkling like diamonds between gaps in the fast moving clouds.

 _ **…The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, gave the luster of midday to objects below…**_

The moon appeared from behind the clouds, bathing Harry in a silvery light as snow continued to drift to the floor. Harry could see paw prints from one of Mrs Figg's cats where it had crossed the garden. He followed the tracks until they ended at the fence and Harry knew the cat had jumped up and over, leaving the Dursley's garden. Movement caught his eye…

 _ **…When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer; With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick…**_

Harry's eyes widened at the sight and he rubbed his eyes, sure he was seeing things but when he looked, they were still there. His jaw dropped as the tiny sleigh pulled by equally tiny reindeer moved through the garden but unlike the cat, they left no tracks on the snow. They seemed to circle endlessly around the garden as if lost…

 _ **…More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled, and shouted, and call'd them by name: "Now! Dasher, now! Dancer, now! Prancer and Vixen, on! Comet, on! Cupid, on! Donder and Blitzen…"**_

Harry pressed his face to the window, totally forgetting about smearing the glass as he watched as the sleigh rose into the air and flew around the garden. A smile lit up his face at the sight of the tiny little reindeer galloping on air. The sleigh flew past the window and Harry would've sworn he saw the driver wave at him and that he could hear sleigh bells jingling as they flew. He raised his hand and gave a timid wave in reply…

 _ **"…To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!" As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky…**_

Harry pressed further into the glass as much as he could without physically go through the pane. He watched as the tiny sleigh flew up and out of sight. He eased back from the window with a sigh. Without thinking twice, he took a cloth and wiped the window, removing all signs he'd been standing there and returned the cleaning equipment back to their cupboard.

 _ **…So up to the housetop the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of toys — and St. Nicholas too: And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, the prancing and pawing of each little hoof…**_

Harry looked up as if he could see the roof through the bedrooms above and he realised the sleigh had landed on the roof. He felt excitement build within him but then reality crashed down. He had frequently been told he wasn't good enough; freaks like him didn't deserve presents from St. Nicholas. A tear welled up in his eye and he moved slowly towards his cupboard pausing only when he heard something sliding down the chimney.

 _ **…As I drew in my head, and was turning around, down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound: He was dress'd all in fur, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnish'd with ashes and soot…**_

Harry lifted his head as St. Nicholas appeared through a gap between the mantel and the fire. Harry pressed himself back against the wall in an effort not to be seen. He just knew he would be in a world of hurt if his relatives found out he'd been out of his cupboard. He watched as St. Nicholas entered the room…

 _ **…A bundle of toys was flung on his back, and he look'd like a peddler just opening his pack: His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples: how merry, his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry…**_

Harry took in the appearance of the tiny man and he was reminded of the jolly man who came up to him in the street and shook his hand. He shivered as he remembered the reaction of his relatives so he remained perfectly still and watched silently as he took in the sight before him.

 _ **…**_ _ **His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow; the stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath…**_

Harry gasped and hoped to all that was holy that Aunt Petunia wouldn't smell the smoke when she came down in the morning; regardless of the fact he was only five, she would find a way to blame him and he knew it would not be pleasant…

 _ **…He had a broad face, and a little round belly that shook when he laugh'd, like a bowl full of jelly: He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laugh'd when I saw him in spite of myself…**_

At Harry's gasp, St. Nicholas turned to look at him. He then looked around the room; at the numerous pictures on the wall, then to the stockings above the fire and Harry saw a frown appear on the tiny face and his shoulders went down. Santa now knew Harry was a bad boy. He turned and moved slowly towards his cupboard.

 _ **…A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and fill'd all the stockings; then turn'd with a jerk…**_

Harry stopped when St. Nicholas appeared before him. The tiny figure grew until he was tall as his Uncle. Harry shied away with a gasp, only stopping when the wall prevented him from going any further. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up. St Nicholas smiled down at him before kneeling down so he was face to face with Harry. He swung the sack to the floor and rummaged around in it until he came out with a small, squashy package. He handed it to Harry with a smile before getting to his feet and hefting the sack onto his shoulder…

 _ **…And laying his finger aside of his nose and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprung to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew, like the down of a thistle…**_

Harry watched as St Nicholas made his way back to the fire place and it was if he'd been sucked up by a hoover as he disappeared. Harry hugged the package to his chest before slipping silently into his cupboard. Above his head he could hear the trample of hooves and the jingle of bells as the sleigh took to the air. Harry quietly pulled the door shut before slowly and carefully opening his present. In his hands was a soft stuffed dog and a memory surfaced.

It was his Wuffy.

He hugged the toy with all his might as he hid the paper under his 'bed.' He did not want Wuffy to be taken from him. He curled up on his side and held Wuffy tightly. He was slowly dropping off to sleep when he woke with a jump. He had realised Santa hadn't left anything in the stockings hung above the fireplace. He was the only one to get a present from Santa. He looked at Wuffy and stroked the soft material lovingly before getting as comfortable as possible on the thin mattress before drifting off to sleep.

 **…** ** _But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight -_** " _ **Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"**_

Perhaps he wasn't such a bad boy after all.


End file.
